Sweet Dreams
by sarahxxxlovey
Summary: “We’ve been stupid,” I replied, with a smile. “Well that’s basically the proper adjective to describe the both of us,” she giggled, burying her face in my chest. Post DH. RW/HG along with others. To be continued!
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything!**

**  
Sweet Dreams:**

"Can I explain later?" Harry asked, as the three of us fell onto our favorite well-worn couch in the Gryffindor common room. The giant room was empty now; all the people were sleeping in the dorms or at home, grieving in various corners of the castle, or celebrating downstairs somewhere. Surprisingly, the fire was still crackling in the fireplace; it had kept burning throughout all the fighting, as if it could feel that there was something important was going on downstairs and it should keep going.

After the uncountable amount of 'thank you' that we had received, the three of us had finally made their way up to the common room. We trudged up the stairs, drinking in the damage that had been thrown upon our beloved school. The walls were breaking and broken, the paintings torn and thrown around, the suits of armor battered and strewn around the halls.

It was very comforting to be entering our old common room again. It was strange seeing a place that was so familiar since we had spent months and months in places that we had never seen before, never been to, never felt comfortable in. The contrast from being in the middle of nowhere to being in a place where there were so many memories that we had made together was astonishing.

I had looked around at the big squishy armchairs and felt for the first time in almost a year, that we were all finally home again, and that we were finally safe.

"Of course, mate." I replied, as slung my arm around the back of the couch. Hermione collapsed in front of it and Harry on her other side, looking as tired as I had ever seen the both of them. Harry gazed at us with a dependent look, borderline helpless.

"But the two are you are staying with me," Harry said, looking us both in the eye, panic in his own, "You aren't allowed to leave. If you do-" his voice cracked, "Well I won't know what to do. You have to stay."

I watched Hermione peer at Harry, and nodded along with her. I could tell that we both knew after all this time together we weren't sure if we could ever really be apart from each other, or from Harry.

"I'm tired." She said softly, rubbing her cheeks and eyes as she looked into the fire.

She looked it, too. The pure exhaustion, the fatigue that the past months had bestowed on them, was evident on her face, as I was sure it was on Harry's and mine. Her lips were parted slightly and her body was slumped against itself, a sign that she couldn't muster up the energy to keep herself in an upright position.

She looked at me and gave a defeated, tired smile. I returned it with a small, sad smile of my own. She yawned, and I was struck with how adorable she looked. Her head then fell into Harry's lap and she lifted her feet up into mine. I picked them up and carefully untied her shoes as Harry brushed her hair out of her face with his fingers.

Her eyes fluttered closed with one last yawn and within a few moments, Hermione's slightly irregular breathing had slowed to a deep, steady pattern. I rubbed my thumb back and forth along her shin, covered in her jeans, taking in every part of her anatomy as she slept.

"Ron," Harry's voice said, breaking the comfortable silence with a quiet tone, "Think she'll be up any time soon?"

I looked at her sweet face resting along the dark fabric of Harry's denim and shook my head.

"Not for a couple hours," I replied. I glanced at Harry's face and saw the same look that had been on Hermione's, except Harry's was one that made him look ten years older then he was. I looked with melancholy at my best friend. "You should sleep too, mate." Harry nodded, still stroking Hermione's hair, much like a brother would his sister's.

"I will," he said quietly, "But I don't know if I'll be able to."

"You could go find Ginny," I suggested gently. I had given up the internal battle with myself long ago, and I decided to let it go. Harry's eyes snapped up and his hand froze. He raised his eyebrows, asking the wordless question. I nodded, silently letting him know of my surrender. "I think she's in the Great Hall; she's probably weary too." Harry gave me a huge grin and I saw years of anguish and sadness melt off his face, making him appear a ton closer to his actual age.

I knew I had done the right thing then. If the capitulate of mine could get that look of weariness and lethargy of the young man's face, it would be worth it.

"Thanks, Ron," he said, his eyes full of a joy that I hadn't seen a very long time, "You don't know how much that means to me."

I looked down at Hermione as she slept.

"I think I do," I replied, smiling as I kept my eyes on her face. I could feel Harry's eyes on me as I continued watching her. He smiled and gently lifted her up, placing her carefully onto my lap. Her arms curved around my middle as she snuggled up against me. Harry gave us a knowing smile and then walked out the portrait hole, closing it quietly behind us.

Hermione buried her face deeper into my shoulder. I pulled her closer to me, enjoying the feeling of her body so near mine. I looked down at her face, red and swollen, bruised in some places, marked in others, the sparkling dark amber eyes that were always alert, covered by her eyelids. Under her eyes were dark, lined circles of black etched into her ivory skin. They were the sign that showed how little she had really slept over the last year.

She had sacrificed more then the rest of us, I'm sure. Well, more then me I'm positive. Harry hadn't had anything left, so what could he have sacrificed? Everything that he was, everything that he had, everything that he had ever had was put into the defeat of Voldemort. What more could he had given?

And she certainly gave more then I did. What did I give up? Home cooked meals? A warm bed? I'm not positive whether she, or he, even had that to begin with. I'd never been to Hermione's house, so I couldn't be sure with her, and I know Harry didn't at that bloody dump that his relatives put him in.

And it didn't matter even if I did sacrifice anything. It's not like I stuck around long enough to actually feel the pain of it. I didn't suffer any. Hermione was the one who had to put up with Harry's cold shoulder and my temper tantrums. She was the one who provided food for us the whole time. She was the one who had to put up with everything that us boys had thrown up at her.

She had to deal with me walking out on her, leaving her practically alone in a situation that she never should have been in in the first place. She wasn't only the person who sacrificed the most, but also the one who I hurt the most, who I treated the worst, who had to deal with everything that I threw to her.

She was so strong. No matter what she went through, with… the, err, the Malfoy Manor incident and the aftermath of the torturing, and the battles and the adventures and the horror and the death and just, just _everything!_ It's so hard to believe that she's actually okay, that she's all right, that she's here.

I'm going mad right now. I'm only looking at her and I feel like I'm about to go crazy, like I'm going to fall of my rocker. Not only from her, but everything. From, oh Merlin from Fred. I really can't believe he's gone. After, Merlin-

She stirred in my arms. Her eyes fluttered open and looked up at me.

"Ron?" she murmured hazily, "Why aren't you sleeping?"

I hugged her closer and whispered in her ear.

"How did you know I wasn't sleeping?"

"I just knew. Go to sleep," she urged.

"I can't here." I whispered. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I'll wake you up in a few hours."

"You can't sleep here?" Her eyes looked so innocent, still half-closed from her nap a few moments ago. "Well why not?"

"Because it's a couch. When have I ever been good at sleeping in somewhere other then a bed?"

"Fine then," she said, standing up and brushing off her clothes. She still looked exhausted. "We'll go to the dorms."

"Huh?"

"Honestly, Ronald. You can't sleep down here, and frankly I can't sleep without you. And I'm too drained to not sleep, as I'm sure you are too, so we need to go to your dorm so you can sleep, and in turn, so can I." I didn't fully understand what she was saying, but I went along with it anyways. I realized that I was so tired that I wasn't thinking or comprehending anything rationally.

Not that I think rationally very often anyways. But that's beside the point.

I took her outreached hand and felt her pull me up. When did this turn into her taking care of me? I heard her grab her shoes and pull my hand towards the stairs. I tripped over them ungracefully, again and again grabbing her hand tightly, depending on it to pull my body up from the ground when I fell.

Her hand was comforting in mine. Our fingers weren't intertwined; like I saw Ginny and Harry's on countless occasions, and our pinkies weren't linked like I saw Mum and Dad do while they walked. We were just holding hands, like a brother and sister would do. Except for the fact that we weren't brother and sister. Not even close.

Before I knew it, she had opened the door and we had fallen haphazardly onto my old bed, a flailing pile of mass and limbs, entangled in each other and not really caring. Every part of my body was touching hers. Her arm against my stomach, my leg against her thigh, my wrist against her neck. It felt heavenly. A warmth wiggled through me and sent a slow, pulsing shock up and down my spine.

Before I knew it I had woken again. I couldn't even remember falling asleep. All I knew was I her loud weeps. Her sobs were whipping against my ears, a piercing sound of agony that pushed through the barrier of her hair. I pulled her closer and just looked at her red-rimmed eyes that were pushing tears out. It was hard, but I did it anyways.

I had gotten used to her dark eyes smiling silently at me when I teased her, or glaring at me when I didn't do my homework. But now the tears silently poured. And it was breaking my heart. _How was it that her skin still looked clean? _I wondered randomly as I held her. _I must look like hell right now and here she is, still perfect. _

She had a cut on her chest, I noticed. Maybe a hex that had seared through her tee shirt and cut the soft skin below it? Maybe sent by a rogue Death Eater, or a floating pierce of shrapnel?

I looked at her hair, the bushy, frizzy curls that had tantalized me for so long. The tips of them were singed, probably from Gringotts, or maybe from another hex. I knew she had had a million of them thrown in her direction. It was a miracle she wasn't more seriously injured – a miracle from the Gods.

But her hair still looked good, even after a huge battle. I was sure mine was greasy and dirty, but hers still seemed like it did every other day: shiny, big, and gorgeous. I loved how I could take my finger and stick it up the center of the curl, and it would wrap around my finger.

No, now wasn't the time to think things like that. I wrapped my arms around her waist yet tighter still. I tried to drain everything bad out of her head, only leaving the good thoughts. I tried to wipe out all the guilt, the fear, and anxiety.

I knew it wasn't going to work, but it was better then nothing. It was better then thinking that I couldn't help her at all. Perhaps she would be less miserable than if I had not been here?

My mind wandered back to our kiss somehow. The way her lips felt on mine, moving against mine, pressing against mine. The way she tasted was incredible, intoxicating, irresistible. I could only imagine tasting her again.

She eventually fell back asleep, and consequently, so did I.

I wasn't supposed to be awake yet. I was still supposed to be sleeping, wrapped up in my blanket, erasing the black circles that had been resting beneath my eyes. My head was supposed to be filled with pointless dreams, nothingness that strolling lazily across the field of my mind.

I was supposed to be sleeping, my heart beating in a set pattern, a steady pattern, and my breathing regular. I was supposed to feel warm, encased in a shell of comfort. I was supposed to feel caressed by the deep red curtains that I hadn't slept in for such a long time. I wasn't supposed to be awake.

But I was. The bright light had snuck and had taken away the peaceful slumber, replacing the relaxing feeling with one of great grief. It was an odd feeling, being woken up by the sun. I never used to wake up from the sun. It used to take much more to wake me.

But used to be no more. Not since the Horcrux Hunt, sleeping lightly in order to wake in case of an attack.

Old habits die hard.

"Ron," I heard a soft voice, almost like an angel, whisper "Wake up."

It wasn't the sun. Hermione had come to wake me up, shake me from the peaceful dreams of nothing.

"No," I replied stubbornly, almost moaning, "'S too early."

"Ron, honey. Wake up," she urged, "For me?"

She ran her fingers along the sensitive skin of my arms, where the scars that were caused by the brains laid, where freckles from the sun resided. I shivered slightly, against the self-control that was desperately trying to be held on by the strings that attached to the back of my mind.

"No." I replied into his pillow, my eyes still closed, trying to ignore the fact the she was now running her open palm along my chest lovingly, silently urging me, wordlessly begging me to get up.

"Not even for me?" she asked softly.

I could hear the slightly seductive undertones in her voice and had to will my whole body not to get up for her. It took a ton of effort, but it was doable. I shook my head again, burying my head further down into my pillow.

"Please?" she said, softly and slowly. The tones were getting stronger now, scratching away at my willpower and creating a pulling sensation towards her body, like a magnetic being pushed towards its attracting pole. Her hand was rubbing slower and lighter now, affecting me even more drastically. If I didn't have morning wood, I certainly did now.

"No," I repeated as before, "'S too early."

"Ron, please?" she asked, her voice becoming slightly desperate. I shook my head again. "Please?" Her voice was begging me now. "I felt like I haven't seen you. I miss you. Please?" Her voice cracked.

I looked up at her with one eye open and saw her eyes at the beginning of tearing up again. I thought she would have been done after last night. The thought occurred to me that I hadn't even started. So I gave her a little smile and pulled her into bed next to me, snuggling her up against my body. I sighed at the content feeling of being warm with her heat, and pulled her closer, her curves snug against my body.

"I'm awake," I whispered in her ear from behind, determined to affect her like she affected me. I wanted to make her lose control beneath me. I leaned down near her face as she twisted around to meet it.

It was the lightest brush of our lips: the smallest contact of pink skin, intensified by the heat given off by our mouths. It reminded me of when Ginny and I used to touch eyelashes – A butterfly kiss.

Her brunette eyelashes curved along her freckled skin as I looked down at her. The clear eyes entranced me momentarily; I had to shake my head to make myself focus.

"I love you." I declared, no longer embarrassed or afraid for what was to come.

"Ron," she breathed, her voice slightly dreamier then normal, almost like Luna's tone. Her eyes traveled down to my chest, covered in the well-worn and now soft material of my favorite navy blue tee shirt. It had been my favorite for a while, ever since Hermione had told me that it brought out the color of my eyes a few months ago.

"Ron," she repeated, her voice steadier this time. "I love you too. For a long time I have." My heart swelled with joy and I kissed her softly again.

"We've been stupid," I replied, with a smile.

"Well that's basically the proper adjective to describe the both of us," she giggled, burying her face in my chest.

"Maybe," I replied teasingly, "But I think it better describes you then me." She laughed and I could feel the vibrations throughout my limbs.

"Okay, Ronald. Keep telling yourself that."

We sat in silence for a few moments longer.

"Hermione, can I go back to sleep now?

"Yes Ron, you can go back to sleep."

"Sweet Dreams, Hermione."

"You too, Ron."

**A/N: This is the beginning of the missing! I've had a recent obsession with Post-DH/Post-War/Pre-Epilogue fiction, and decided to tackle it myself. I might add more chapters that will come before this, and I will _definitely_ add more after this.**

**I'm so so so so so so sorry about my huge absence. It's been six long, dreadful months, and I'm really sorry. I've been going through a lot, which pretty much sums it all up shortly, but I'm back for good.  
HUGE thanks to my amazing beta, RHr4Eva. Go check out her stories, she's amaaazing !**

**What did you think? Review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up alone in his bed, wrapped up in a blanket and hugging the pillow. What was happening today?

First, I needed to shower. I could tell that I smelled awful, my hair was greasy, and I was singed, burned, and smoldered all over.

I folded up the blankets and made the bed, then walked to the bathroom. I was still too tired to actually focus on any one thing. I just walked, out of habit, and took a hot shower. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a hot shower. I washed my clothes by hand. My hands got red and raw and blistered, but my clothes were clean now.

I was clean now.

No matter how many times Ron told me that I shouldn't feel guilty for staying with him, I did. I still felt like I didn't belong. I still felt like I shouldn't be there with the huge group of redheads and sit with them like I was family, because I _wasn't _family. And that was it.

Harry doesn't count; he _does_ belong with them. How long has Mrs. Weasley considered Harry one of her own? Since we were twelve? He was supposed to be with them. The bond between him and Weasleys had only gotten stronger when he got together with Ginny. Now he truly would be part of the family, soon enough.

I wasn't supposed to be there though. I'm not part of the family. The closest I am with one of the Weasleys is Ron, and besides being his friend, I'm not _technically _anything. I mean, we've kind of been through a lot, and I'm a little in love with him and everything, and I sort of kissed him during the Final Battle, and we pretty much confessed our love to each other this morning, but that doesn't have anything to do with my right to be with the family.

Technically.

The only reason I sat with them was because he asked me to.

"Hermione," he said, his voice raw like it had been since yesterday. "Stay. Please. Don't go."

_Don't go._ Wasn't that what I screamed at him while he turned his back on me?

And that was the reason I stayed. I couldn't do to him what he did to me. He was already going through too much.

I sat down next to him, not too close to seem like anything was happening, but close enough that I didn't feel like I was about to have a panic attack. He looked up at me, face blank, eyes heavy. He pulled me close to him.

He smelt different then he had last night. He must have showered. He smelt good, but then again, he always did.

"Good morning." he said, kissing my forehead gently and pulling me tightly against him.

"You too." I whispered, hugging him around the waist.

"He-hem." someone coughed above us. I looked up at saw Mr. Weasley, not only coughing at us, but at the whole family who had, since I sat down, gathered on the various Common Room couches and settled themselves. Ron reached for my hand, braiding our fingers together and putting his other arm around my shoulder.

"Hello, everyone," Mr. Weasley started hesitantly, his voice weaker then I had ever heard. "I hope everyone had a decent nights sleep. Today's going to be pretty busy and-"

That was all of the speech that I heard for a while. Ron had begun to take his thumbs and run them gently up and down my hand, effectively calming me and distracting me at the same time.

"Stop it, Ronald," I told him, half-heartedly. "You're distracted me."

"Am I not allowed to?" he asked quietly.

"Technically, you aren't – "

"Oh shove it, Hermione." He whispered, a half-sneer half-smirk coming onto his face. "You're my bloody girlfriend now; I can do whatever the bloody hell I want."

I glared at him and unwrapped his arm from me and untwisted our hands.

"Not if that's how you're asking me, I'm not."

Mr. Weasley talked on and I started to listen.

"We're going to take, the… body," he looked up and bit his lip, trying to keep himself from crying. "to the Burrow. Today. I don't need any help with it, but anyone who'd like to would be welcome to. The rest of you can help around the castle. Take your own pace at everything. You don't have to jump back into things. But I'd like nobody to be alone. No stragglers and loners."

"We have people who are here and love us," George stuttered, his voice flat and hollow, "and F-F-Fred wouldn't want us to be isolated."

I looked at Ron and I could tell he was about to cry. He jaw was set tight and his fists clenched. I bit my lip and looked at Ginny, or what part of Ginny I could see. She was completely buried under Harry and a bright green blanket; the only part visible of her was a few strands of her hair.

"Hermione and Harry are e-expected, and wanted, to come with us, and to stay with us. You're more then welcome." his voice cracked, but still, he continued, "Everyone's m-more then welcome. Will you two stay with us then?"

I nodded, and I saw Harry do the same over the green blanket. His eyes were lined with dark pink, and they held a look that made them seem as though his cheeks would never be dry again. He buried his face back into Ginny's hair and kissed her temple lightly before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

I could feel my self-control weaning gently, slowly drifting off into the place in my mind where my dreams of Ron and me resided, to the place where we were the only ones that existed. His thumb was rubbing slowly against my hand. I still couldn't get it out of my mind that we wasn't officially my boyfriend. But honestly, I didn't really care at this point.

"Dad, are we finished?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Yes," his dad replied, his voice breaking yet again, "The… the kids can wander off now. Just update every once in a while, patronus or owl or… just check in. I don't want any of you leaving here either. S-s-stay here. Are we c-clear?"

There was a numerous count of yes sirs. Ron immediately pulled me up and led me out of the room.

"We'll be around." he said as we walked out the door.

We walked for a while, until he stopped us in the middle of a hallway full of debris and shrapnel that hasn't yet been cleaned.

"Please, can I just kiss you?" he asked, his eyes desperate and his hands clammy. "I really can't stand this. Just – "

"Ron. You don't have to explain yourself. I'll never object."

His eyes teared up more then they had been all day, and he leaned into me, pressing his lips to mine. This was our second kiss.

He pushed me backwards against the wall, putting his hands on either side of my body, in between my shoulders and waist, only touching me with his lips. I pressed my fists against the wall next to my hips and lost myself in his kiss.

We kissed for a few moments, how long, I really couldn't tell you. His lips felt so good, so natural, moving against mine. I was trying to memorize everything about it.

"Oh, excuse me." a voice spoke behind us. I pulled away.

"It's – " My voice died in my throat. There was a man, maybe fifty years old, levitating a body bag in front of him. Ron, however, hadn't yet seen.

He kissed me briefly once more, then grabbed my hand and started to turn.

"Oh, sir, it's all right; We weren't do – " His voice died too. It stopped terribly.

His hand clenched dangerously in mine. I squeezed back.

"I'll be on my way now." the man croaked.

Immediately after the man had turned the corner, Ron turned to face me, tears spilling down his face. I reached my arms out for him and he quickly complied. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he put his head down on my shoulder and sobbed.

By the time Ron's eyes were cried out, completely dried, Percy had already come to fetch us to bring us to the Great Hall for dinner.

He led us back, no longer walking pompously with his head held high and his chest pushed out, but with his shoulders slumped. His body doubled over its self, like he had just given up everything that he could have possibly be fighting for, and there was just not a point to stand straight anymore. I touched his shoulder, gently, and he turned his head to me, slowly, like he barely had the strength.

"Nobody blames you." I told him, softly.

"I do." he said dejectedly, and walked.

I fell asleep sitting upright in a chair in the boys' dormitory that night, with Harry in the bed to the right of me and Ron to the left. I curled up on the worn leather, taking comfort in the familiar smell. I stared out the window at the sky and the small amount of light until I became too tired to keep my eyes open.

When I woke up I was once again in Ron's bed, him lying next to me. There was no light, only the pitch black that came with the curtains closed around us. I burrowed against him and fell back asleep.

I woke up the second time, alone and cold, with Harry sitting on his bed and putting on his socks.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, Harry," I said. "Where is everyone?"

"Around. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went home for the night. Ron's with Ginny and George and Percy, all in the Great Hall, eating and putting their… affairs in order."

I faced him, my feet swinging slightly over the side.

"What're you going to do?" I asked as he started to tie his shoes.

"I'm not sure. I don't want to leave you guys. I… well honestly, I can't leave you guys. I don't know how to function anymore without the two of you. You even more, I guess. But Ron… he needs me just as much as I need him right now. Ginny too. But I'm sure I need Ginny more then she needs me." He sighed, and looked up at me. "You aren't going anywhere, are you?"

"I have to track my parents down sometime." I said softly, watching as he stood up and went to the mirror to button his fresh shirt.

"How's Ron going to take that?"

"I don't know."

"How's Ron in general?"

"I really don't know."

"And, how are you?" he asked, looking at me in the eyes, through the mirror while he buttoned.

"Oh, Harry!" I laughed sadly. "You're worrying about me? You're the one who, hm, let's see, DIED yesterday, and you're asking me about how I am?"

"Of course." He replied, looking at me funny.

I fell back against the bed and stared up at the velvet covering.

"I honestly don't know."

"How're you and Ron?"

"He says I'm his girlfriend. He hasn't properly asked though, so that's not true. We're just… we're just us. I don't even know anymore."

"Hermione," he said. He turned and looked at me straight in the eye. "He's going to be messed up for the rest of his life over the last year. It's not my place to tell what he went through, but this, along with… F-Fred, he's going to be pretty shaken up. Just… steady him, all right? Be there."

"I know."

"But that doesn't mean you should neglect yourself either. If you're there for him, he'll be there for you too. Love is a mutual feeling, you know." He turned, and looked up at him one more time in the mirror, attempted to flatten his hair, and turned to leave.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"That may be the deepest thing you've ever said."

"I'm not just a pretty face, Hermione," he said, smugly.

I rolled my eyes and gave him a sad smile before falling back onto the bed.

Apparently, I fell asleep, because when I became conscious again, Ron was lying next to me on his stomach, equally passed out, as I had been a few seconds before. I mirrored his position, my arms under my head, facing him as he slept.

I pulled a blanket over him and leaned over to kiss his cheek, then went downstairs. Fleur was sitting on the couch with Bill's head in her lap. He was as sound asleep as Ron was. I sat down in one of the huge armchairs and curled up. Fleur continued to tenderly stroke her husband's hair.

"Eet eez incredible what thees family has been through," she said softly.

"I know," I said. "I can't even imagine feeling like they do."

"You 'ave been through a lot as well, Hermione." Her thick accent distorted my name slightly. "You should not preetend like you 'ave not. I know that there eez things you do not tell us, and may not tell us ever, but do not make the family seem stupid. We know that there eez theengs you 'ave gone through that we will never experience, but we weel be there when you need us."

I looked over at her and smiled. She'd never been my favorite. I never did like the way that Ron looked at her, the way that every man in her presence wanted her in ways that nobody had ever wanted me. I guess I was just jealous, and never took the time to realize that she was actually a nice person.

"We eez seemilar, you and I." She continued. "Both of us 'ave or weel marry into the Weasley family." I blushed brilliantly and looked down at my hands, then chuckled.

"I don't like Ron like that." I denied to her.

"I was not talking of Ronald," she said, smiling slyly with a twinkle in her eye, "I always thought it Percy you fancied." I just laughed even harder.

**A/N: Thanks to the best beta in the world (for putting up with my weirdness among other things!): RHr4Eva :)3**

Sorry if this chapter seemed awkward. I can't really think of any other words to describe a setting like this besides silent, awkward, and suffocating.  
& Don't worry my story will get more cheerful, eventually! Haha. I just think that the way that the Weasleys grieve is a huge part of their life and that they aren't just going to get over Fred.

Please Rate, Review, and Check out my other stories:) Thanks so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Later that day, we, being the Weasleys, Harry, and I, went home.

_Home._

Home wasn't Hogwarts anymore. It wasn't the place that I spent my childhood. I can't even remember the last time I considered that house my home. Home was the Burrow now. Home was where my family was. Where Ron was.

It was still too quiet to be home. No explosions, no laughter, no noises at all. Even the ghoul in the attic was quiet.

Stiflingly quiet.

George was rarely seen; only at meals would he come down, just so that his mum wouldn't get too worried. Though either way, she was still worried. But she tended to busy herself with other things. Sometimes, the house was spotless, the laundry done three times a day. Other days, she wasn't seen; she spent from sun up to sun down in her room with Arthur, who spent more and more time at home instead of work.

Occasionally, Mrs. Weasley would go up to George's room and spend the whole day with him. It was on those days when I would floo Fleur and she and Bill would come over, Bill going up with Ginny and Ron, Harry coming downstairs, and the three "other Weasleys" would clean and cook for the rest of the family.

Then there were the funerals. First was Lupin and Tonks'. That night, the heart wrenching image of Teddy during the funeral, sitting on his grandmother's lap, his hair still turquoise and playing with a toy while his grandmother sobbed, was burned into the underside of my eyelids. I cried all night.

Ron was an absolute wreck. Every time I saw him, which I have to say wasn't very often those first few weeks; my heart broke a little bit more. I didn't even think that I could hurt any more at that point, but every time I saw him, somehow I did. His eyes seemed permanently red, his skin infinitely tired, and his body completely slouched. It seemed as though everything had just fallen apart, like nothing was ever going to be the same.

At Fred's funeral, Ron spent the whole time with his arm around George's shoulder, George's around his, and Ginny holding George's other hand tightly, bracing arms with Ron behind Georges back. I sat with Harry, on the end of the family row next to Percy. I don't remember much of it to be honest. It all just felt unreal.

I was sleeping in Ginny's room again, like I always had. Most nights though, I fell asleep on the couch, a book in my hand and one of the warm blankets from the arm over my body. Besides, Harry often went into our room. I knew that Harry and Ginny needed each other. I also knew I needed Ron. Sometimes I'd wish that I could go up to Ron's room and climb into his bed and cuddle with him and try to soothe him.

But I didn't. I knew that everyone had their own way to deal with things.

Ron's just didn't involve me.

Days after Fred's funeral, I sat on the couch, switching between scanning books on household charms that I took from Mrs. Weasley's shelves and intense memory reversal theorum books.

I still needed to go get my parents. I missed them so much that my heart ached, but I couldn't bring myself to leave just yet. I wasn't ready to leave the Burrow yet. In the back of my mind, I was still waiting for Ron to ask for help. I was still waiting for him to do something or talk to me or just make a move.

Instead, Harry walked in and sat down next to me, staring straight ahead. His shoulders were tensed, and yet he had a resigned feeling to him, like he had just given up on everything and was finally coming to terms with the fact.

"Hi," I whispered.

He turned his head to look at me, his face still blank.

"Hello." He turned forward again. There were a few moments of silence. "How're you?"

"I'm okay. You?"

"Getting there. How's Ron?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to him for a few days."

"I have," Harry said softly. I all but dropped my book on the ground and turned to Harry quickly, waiting for him to continue. He laughed. "Excited, are we?"

"What did you talk about?" I asked as I blushed, as I needed the information.

"A lot, actually," he said, his face looking a little puzzled. "Ron's emotional range has gotten a bloody lot bigger." I smiled. "He basically told me not to blame myself, and that he needs me and you need me and Ginny needs me. He's been spending a lot of time with George, so he talked about him too. Well, in general he did more of the talking than I did. He talked about why he left and how much he cares about me and just all that crap."

"Aw," I said teasingly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we're bloody adorable," he retorted, his face scrunched up in slight disgust.

"Harry, I'm glad you talked. He really does care about you."

"Yeah, I know that," he replied.

I leaned over and pulled him into a tight hug.

"I still can't believe you're here. I just wish we could be celebrating. I wish everyone could have made it out like we did," I whispered in his ear. "But you're alive. I'm alive. Ron's alive. The three of us made it. I still can't believe it."

"I know," he said, laughing slightly, "It's crazy. It's all over. I didn't think we'd ever make it this far. I don't even know what to do with myself now."

"I know exactly what you mean," I laughed, pulling away and looking him straight in the eye. My voice suddenly went serious. "I'm just… I'm really glad you're okay, Harry. More than that. There aren't even words to tell you how I feel about you. You're like my brother, and I'm… I'm just so glad you're okay."

"Me too. I'm really glad you're okay too, little sister."

I pulled back a little bit.

"Excuse me?" I said, half jokingly. "Since when am _I _the younger one?"

He gave me a look before replying, "Hermione, it took you seven years to get going with him. It took me like… seven months for Ginny. I think I get a little bit more credit than you do."

"Well… Well…" I was at a loss for words, "I'm smarter!"

He laughed and stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his clothes.

"Whatever. My level of maturity is far superior to yours."

"Good night, Harry," I said, smiling again.

"Night, Hermione." He turned and walked up the stairs, leaving me once again with my thoughts.

I woke up around three in the morning to the sound of someone walking down the stairs. I could tell it was Ron immediately.

I looked over at the stairs and watched as I saw him emerge from the stairwell. I smiled at the sight of his pajamas: a white vest and gray sweatpants. I smiled even more when I remember what he used to wear to bed: a maroon tee shirt and Cannons pants complete with snitches and broomsticks.

He walked into the kitchen, made some noise for a few minutes and came back out with two cups of tea. I watched him as he flicked his wand lazily at the fire to flare it up a bit, gave me one of the mugs, and sat in the armchair.

I took a sip of the mug silently and looked at him.

His voice was deep and husky with sleep once he spoke. "Why don't we talk anymore?"

"I thought you didn't want to."

"'Mione, don't be stupid."

I flushed and tried to think of something to say.

"I heard you spoke with Harry."

He looked up, surprised. "Yeah, we er… talked earlier."

"I'm glad. He could use you right now."

"Yeah, well, I need him too."

"Yeah," I replied awkwardly. There were a few moments of silence when I could feel him staring at me while I looked at the fire. Then he broke the silence.

"'Mione?"

"Mmm?" I could hear the tiredness in my voice.

"Can you please not go to sleep? I promise I won't keep you up all night, but I need… I need someone to talk to."

I looked over at him, nodding my agreement. "Of course."

There were another few moments of silence.

"It's never going to get easier, will it?" He looked down at his mug and took a sip. "It's never going to be the same."

"It's going to get easier. But no, it'll never be the same."

"I don't even know what to do."

"Just keep trying, Ron. It'll all be better eventually."

"I just feel like there's this giant lump in my throat, and that it's going to be there forever, no matter what happens or what I do or how much time passes. I feel like it's always going to be there."

"Well, I'm not going to lie. It probably will always be there, to some degree. But it get's easier, I promise you that."

"How do you know?"

"I just know. It'll always hurt. You'll never _fully_ get over it. But eventually

you'll get to be decent, then okay, then fine, then good, great, and healed," I said.

He smiled gently, still into his tea, before dropping his head back against the chair and looking up at the ceiling. His face fell, not to the point of relaxation, but more of state of not being able to take what he was feeling anymore.

"I just don't want to forget him. I don't want there to be a day when he doesn't cross my mind. That's all I can think about right now, and I feel like if that changes, if I try to get over it, I'll just be disrespecting him."

"Ron," I sighed, tears close to filling my eyes. "You aren't. You won't. You know you won't."

He took a deep breath, his jaw tightening and trembling as he inhaled.

"I feel like I shouldn't be… happy isn't the word… because I'm not happy. But I feel… like I should be more depressed. I mean, Fred's gone, and here I am, thanking Merlin that you're still here and Harry's still here and Ginny and George and Bill and Mum and Dad and just everyone is still here. Though, a lot of thanking for the sake of you." He looked at me. "I just can't get it out of my head, how you kissed me. And it makes me feel like a bloody tosser, because I should be thinking about my dead brother, not about how much I want to snog you!" His head fell back as his voice broke with his final word.

I stood up and set my tea down on the coffee table before walking and sitting on the arm of his chair. He looked up at me with curious eyes, an emotion I was happy to see. It was a nice contrast to what I normally saw.

"Ron," I breathed, trying to work out what I was going to say before I did. I didn't want to word something wrong and mess everything up and have him get defensive again when he was finally talking and opening up. "It's not bad that you're feeling that way, because you did lose a brother. But, you also deserve happiness. You deserve the world, and this… this thing that we're doing and Harry and Ginny getting back together and all of this, it's a way to know that everything was worth it. You know? It's what we need so that we don't feel completely hopeless."

"But I shouldn't be feeling happiness at all! I _should _be feeling completely and utterly hopeless."

"Listen to me!" I said sternly, pulling his chin up to look at me again. "Fred wouldn't want you not to be happy. He would have shoved us together, wouldn't he? You're never going to get over this completely, but… you have to give yourself some credit. Don't think that there's anyway that you _should_ be feeling; just feeling how you actually feel is what's right, not any preconceived notion that you made up in your head."

"I just want to be okay again, Hermione. I just want to feel like I'm going to be okay and not feel like it's never going to get any better."

"Well then you see what I mean. Right now you just have to feel your way around, and just let yourself heal. Whatever you need to heal is the right way."

He looked up at me and smiled again.

It was actually weird thinking that he was looking _up _at me. After so many years of looking up at him…

"You always know what to say," he said, smiling sadly. I smiled softly back at him.

"I don't."

"But you do. You always know what I need to feel just that little bit better. You always know what to do."

I turned my body towards him, pulling his head against my stomach. He wiggled into me and wrapped his arms around my waist, settling gently against me.

"Thank you," he whispered.

I leant down and kissed him on the top of the head.

We sat like that for a while. I played with his hair, wrapping the wavy strands around my fingers and rubbing my hand up and down his shoulder blades. I could feel his shaking silently against me and the part of my shirt right around my belly-button was getting damp with his tears.

But I didn't really mind. I had never thought in a million years that Ronald Weasley would be coming to me for comfort. But there he was, arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer with every second. I could almost feel his need as he held me to him.

I really couldn't say how long we stayed there. Maybe it was half and hour, or maybe two. But I know that it was still dark when we parted and went to bed. When he said goodnight, I walked into my room and leaned against the back of the door for a few moments, trying to decide whether I wanted to cry or smile, before I walked to my bed and fell asleep, doing both.

The next day, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley emerged from their room at around noon. Ginny had taken some breakfast and coffee into them at around eight, and said that they had abruptly stopped talking when she walked in and started again when she walked out.

"What could they be talking about for so long?" she asked as I made French toast for George and Ron.

"I don't know. I mean, they have a lot on their minds, but I don't know."

"Yeah, I guess so. When's that going to be done?"

I finished the toast and served it to George and Ron as they sat at the table, talking in quiet whispers. They both thanked me and watched as I walked back to the sink to do the dishes, making sure that I didn't overhear any of what they were saying.

"What are you being so sneaky about?" I asked as I put the dry dishes into the drying rack. I knew that I could have finished the dishes a lot quicker with a few waves of my wand, but someone it was more satisfying to wash them by hand. Feeling the bubbles foam up under my hand and scrubbing the dried bits of the porcelain just felt better than flicking my wand would have.

"Nothing, really." Ron said.

George set the plates on the counter and patted me on the shoulder before walking up stairs. Ron had another serving and then helped me finish the dishes.

When the parents came out of their room, Harry and George were playing a game of exploding snap while I sat in between Ron and Ginny on the couch.

George was doing considerably better. After the many weeks of seclusion, he had started coming out more and more. I could tell that he still didn't sleep much, and that he was falling apart every second of every day, but he seemed to have gotten past the hardest part, and was now starting to rely on his family more.

They came and sat on the arm chair. Everyone looked up at them expectedly. I met eyes with Harry and then Ron. It was weird how I could tell what they knew just from their eyes. Harry didn't know anything, and I could tell that Ron had an inkling.

It was Mrs. Weasley who spoke.

"I think it's time that we knew what you three were doing last year."

**A/N:** Thank you so much to my wonderful beta RHr4Eva!

I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer and is thinking about the Deathly Hallows premiere as much as I am! The days are ticking slowly by!

This is more a transition chapter, so that's why it's a little awkward.  
Thank you so much for reading my story. It means the world to me (:


	4. Chapter 4

_It was Mrs. Weasley who spoke._

"_I think it's time that we knew what you three were doing last year."_

I looked immediately over at Ron and Harry, their eyes meeting before both turning to me with panicked, stunned looks on their faces.

I was the first to pull myself together.

"Excuse me?" I asked. If that can be counted as "pulling myself together".

"We'd like to know what happened the last few months!" Mrs. Weasley all but shouted. Mr. Weasley leaned over and whispered in her ear. She then took a breath and gestured for him to take over.

"We heard rumors," he said. He took a deep breath like his wife had and continued. "And we'd like to know some things. We aren't pressuring you into telling us everything-"

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

"-but we'd like to know most of what went on," he finished and Mrs. Weasley shoved him before continuing what she started.

"We were so worried about you, all three of you. My baby boy and his two best friends, practically my children, gone all year," she sniffed and wiped her nose with a handkerchief, "I could barely stand it. I didn't know where you three were or what was going on, and I just want to know what happened." she broke down to tears. Mr. Weasley instantly wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

I looked over at Harry, who was sitting on the floor, an exploding snap card still in his hand.

"Mrs. Weasley… I…" he looked at me desperately.

"I think we should-" I started.

"NO! You're going to tell us everything. You're to tell us what that _ridiculous _mission that Dumbledore sent you on was about and why you had to do it alone and why you were gone for practically the whole year, leaving me at home to deal with a ghoul and worry everyday about you-"

**BAM!**

After I realized what had happened, I looked down at my feet, embarrassed. Harry's card had exploded, and it resulted in my involuntary actions of panic. I had jumped up, pulling my wand and pointing it at the source of the sound. I looked to my left and was startled when I saw Ron sheepishly sitting down and putting his wand back into his pocket.

It was funny how alike we could be.

I sat back down and kept my eyes on my lap, fiddling idly with my wand as I tried to avoid the gazes from around the room.

My eyes traveled to George and Ginny, who looked startled, but not particularly surprised. Mr. Weasley was looking at Molly with concern.

I finally met Mrs. Weasley's eyes. They were filled with tears as she looked at Ron and me in horror.

"What happened to you three?" she said shakily, barely above a whisper.

I looked down at Harry, who happened to be exchanging glances with Ron. My eyes traveled between the two of them, trying to read them. Harry's gaze flickered to the stairs and Ron gave a curt nod.

"Err… Mrs. Weasley?" I spoke up, tentatively. "May we please have a few minutes to talk? It's… it's just a lot to handle."

She looked at me with understanding eyes and allowed us to leave the room.

We silently went to Ron's room. It always had been the place we would go to talk, so it just seemed right.

We sat in a circle on the floor, Harry and Ron both leaning against their beds and me sitting cross-legged, facing the door.

"What do we do?" Surprisingly, it was Ron who spoke first. "I knew it was going to happen; they were bound to ask, but… not so soon. What're we gonna do?" His head fell into his hands, his elbows braced on his knees.

I shrugged and looked to Harry, whose face gave away that he was deep in thought.

I realized that I was shaking. I lifted my hand slightly up from my lap and watched it move unnaturally. I tried to make it stop, but it wouldn't; it just kept quivering unnaturally.

I'd never felt so out of control in my entire life.

"Harry, Ron," my voice shook as I spoke, "I c-can't…"

"I know." Ron replied. " I know. I don't want to."

"We need to though," Harry said finally after a few moments of silence between the three of us, his eyes downcast and his body tense. "Well… I need to. I have to tell them… Ron, I don't expect you to feel the same way, but if they want to know, I _need _to tell them. They've treated me like one of their own since I was little, and your family is the only family I've ever known and I just can't-"

"I get it, mate," Ron interjected. "You don't have to explain."

Harry smiled both gratefully at Ron and looked over at me, his eyes immediately filling with concern. "Hermione, are you okay?"

I nodded uncertainly. I lifted my hand slightly, and saw that it was still shaking. Harry said something else, and then I heard Ron's low rumble but I couldn't hear them.

My ears were pounding and my heart was thumping and all I could think about was lying on the floor and trying not to scream and trying to keep my mouth shut because if I screamed then it would be giving her satisfaction and satisfaction was the last thing I wanted her to have.

Then the other side of me, the side that was slowly winning over my will with every passing moment of being under that curse, just wanted it to end, just wanted all the pain to go away and to stop and for it all to be finished and I just wanted to be dead because being dead was better than going through pain like that.

I heard Ron's voice again, sounding more scared than I'd ever heard it, saying my name. Just like before, he was saying my name. But this time it sounded so much better because this time there weren't my own screams bouncing off the walls back at me, constantly reminding me what was going to come, that I had to stay strong.

"Hermione, come on, Hermione. _Hermione!_" This time it was Harry's voice. It was crisp and clear in my ears and by the time it drove the paths to my brain it was fuzzy and had no meaning; the words were just a bunch of gibberish buzzing, making my ears pound harder.

Someone was climbing the stairs quickly, I heard the _thump thump thump_. It sounded like the stairs were being taken two at a time and I don't know how I knew that but somehow the noise was automatically registered before I had time to realize what I was thinking. My ears were still pounding and my head was still thumping and I felt like I was on fire, like I would never catch my breath ever again.

I felt a cup being pressed to my mouth and then heard a quick string of words being muttered and suddenly:

Everything was black.

I opened my eyes and saw the bright orange of Ron's ceiling. I sat up and looked around and spotted Harry sitting on the other bed, leaning forward with his head in his hands and his fingers tangled in his hair.

"Harry?" I whispered, my voice cracking awkwardly.

"Hermione!" he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin."

"What happened?" I looked down at my hands and had a flashback of them shaking violently and it all came rushing back to me; the panicking feeling and the thumping and the pounding and-

"Hermione!" he jumped up and was immediately right next to me on Ron's bed. "Calm down, breathe, you're fine. I'm right here, Ron's right downstairs, and you're fine, okay?" Harry said, his voice calmly masking the frenzy that his eyes couldn't. I took a deep breath and pushed my forehead into his shoulder.

"What's wrong with me?"

"You're… we were talking about telling Ron's parents about… everything, and you sort of, had a fit. I don't know. I'm sure you'll be able to self-diagnose it, but … don't do that again okay? That was effing scary." He took a deep breath and gave me a small, reassuring smile.

"Okay," I lifted my head up from his shoulder to look about the room once again. "Where did you say Ron was?"

"Downstairs. Him and his mum… well… they're having a bit of a row," he revealed sheepishly.

"Why? What about?" Ron and his mum bickered quite often, but it was normally only one or two phrases back and forth, never an actual fight.

"Well… he went down to tell her that they wouldn't be hearing the story tonight, and she… she didn't really understand why, I guess. He revealed the situation to her and she, she still didn't understand, and wanted to see you, and he started yelling, She said that even though he was an adult, he was still her baby boy and still had to go by her rules and if she wanted to know then… well you get the point. So he got angry and started yelling at her, saying how she doesn't know what we've been through and all that, so yes. They're rowing about… everything."

"He's going to be in a mood when he gets back up here," I said.

Harry and I both tensed a little bit as the yelling from downstairs started again. I could hear pieces of the argument floating upstairs. Phrases like "you don't _listen_ to me" and "let me talk" and "you don't understand" could be heard by the whole house.

"MUM, CAN I JUST GO UPSTAIRS AND TRY TO BE A LITTLE BIT OF COMFORT?" All of a sudden, Ron's violent bellow hit my ears. I tensed at his tone, reminded instantly of when he left us. Harry looked at me with concern.

Next was Mrs. Weasley to be heard. I had only heard her so angry a few times; her voice had gone to the point beyond fury, the dark side of the Weasley temper. "Ronald Billius Weasley, if you ever speak to me in that tone ever again, Merlin help me I will-"

"You'll WHAT, Mum? You'll take away my broomstick for a week? You'll send me to bed with supper? Obviously I can handle myself on my own, so do whatever the bloody hell you want because I don't need you and all of your bullsh-"

"Go upstairs," Mr. Weasley said, his words so filled with fury that I had to repress a shudder from stealing a path up and down my spine. I thought that Mrs. Weasley was frightening, but she couldn't compete with her husband.

"Dad, I-"

"NOW."

I listened to the footsteps, or stomps, as they traveled heavily up the staircase. Ron stormed into the room a few moments later, slamming the door angrily behind him. He kicked the side of his wardrobe, yelped in pain and threw himself furiously on his bed.

Harry threw me a look and nodded his head in Ron's direction as he closed the door and left a brooding Ron and me alone.

I sat for a few moments in silence, figuring that if he wanted to talk, he would talk; pushing him and asking him questions would only anger him further.

"She's off her rocker!" he said suddenly, sitting up and staring at her. "All I was trying to do was look out for you, and _excuse me_ if I just wanted to get upstairs and not deal with her at that point. I was doing her a favor, because I said we would be right down after I gave you the potion and you calmed down a bit. So I go down to try to tell her and all she does is yell at me… _for trying to do the right thing!_ It's just bloody ridiculous-"

"Ron, she was just trying to understand."

"What the bloody hell does she need to understand for?"

"You're her _son_, Ronald. Her youngest son and she didn't know what was going on with you for nearly a year!"

"What the bloody hell does that matter? I was trying to do the right thing and all I bloody fucking get is grief-"

"You can_not_ talk that way around your mother, and you sure can't talk that way around me." I tried to make my voice as cold as possible.

"Oh, bloody hell. Not you, too! I came up here to be away from the obnoxious nagging voice in the back of my head, not be assaulted by another one as soon as I entered _in my own room_. In the name of Merlin's saggy left-"

"Stop it, Ronald." I ordered. "You're pushing it."

"I'm bloody sorry if I can't control my bloody temper and my bloody swearing when I'm bloody pissed off!"

"Ron, will you just stop being daft?"

"Oh, so now I'm daft? Thanks a bloody lot, Hermione."

"Will you _stop swearing?_ You're so incredibly infuriating sometimes; I swear that you just do it to get a rise out of me."

"Maybe I do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Ron, don't do that."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Please, then. Please, don't do that."

"I'll do whatever the bloody hell I want. Neither you or that mad woman downstairs can tell me what to do."

"Language, Ron," I warned again, my voice close to cracking. "And she's your mum, she's just trying to look after you. She wants to know that you were safe. You could have been hurt, or something even worse or-"

"Hermione! We _weren't _safe! I _was_ hurt! You were hurt, Harry was hurt, people died at that's exactly what I don't want to tell her!"

"Well, _I _know that. I think I know perfectly well, Ronald Weasley, that I was hurt, that we were hurt. That people died. I was there, too! But she wasn't. You're going to have to tell her something."

"I DON'T WANT TO TELL HER ANYTHING!"

"Ron I-"

"No, Hermione, listen to me, okay? I don't want to tell her that I left. I don't want to tell her that everything was wrong and that I'm a prick and that I let everybody down and that I l-left… that I left you." His voice broke and he looked close to sobbing.

"I don't care that you left, Ron. The thing that I came about is that you came back and-"

"NO OKAY? That's what you _say _but that's not really what you think."

"Yes, it is! I forgave you a long time ago, Ron, you just have to _realize that!"_

"I DON'T DESERVE IT!"

"Ron…"

"Hermione, I can't do this right now. I just can't." He all but ran over to the door. My eyes closed and before I knew it the words had slipped out of my mouth.

"Please… Please, don't leave."

His hand froze on the knob of the half-opened door. I could hear myself breathing abnormally, and the more I listened the more I felt like the walls were closing in, trapping me.

His hand dropped and I closed my eyes, trying to will the tears away, trying to stop myself from crying.

"Hermione…" His voice was tenderer than I had ever heard it.

All I could think about was me begging him not to go, and he looking me in the eye, face filled with fury and turning on the spot. When I spoke again, my voice was broken and my eyes were filled with tears.

"I forgave you," I sobbed, wrapping my arms around myself. "I f-forgave you and you won't a-accept it and you still think everything's y-your fault. You can't even t-tell your m-mum because you're so ashamed. A-and there's no reason to b-be."

"Hermione…"

"Why can't you know that I forgave you, th-that I'll always forgive you? Because even though I'm always mad at you, I'll always forgive you, because you're _you_ and that's j-just how it is."

"Hermione…"

"Ron, you don't understand that-"

"LET ME TALK, damn it!"

Silence.

"There's… a difference between you forgiving me and… me forgiving myself. I can't think about the fact that maybe, maybe if I hadn't left, if I hadn't fucked up if I wasn't such a prick, then you wouldn't have had to go through Bellatrix, and maybe if things hadn't happened they way they did, then maybe everything would have turned out differently and…"

"Ron…"

"I mean, if I hadn't been so caught up in everything, if I wasn't so weak as to let that bloody thing take over my head like that, I wouldn't have been such a prat and wouldn't have ran away, and I'm so _angry_ with myself that I did that to you…

"But at the same time I can still manage to think that maybe that little voice in the back of my head that the bloody locket made louder is right. Why you would over choose me, _ever_ choose me over him?"

I looked at him as his eyes roamed me, traveling down my torso and to my shoes before resting there a moment and moving back to my eyes. I chose my words carefully.

"I _love _you, Ron. I'm in love with you, I have been since I was fourteen, and I'm always going to be completely and totally in love with you and you don't get it. I don't love Harry. There's a reason that I practically threw myself at you and not him in the middle of one of the most important hours of our lives. And on you coming back, you don't accept that even though I was angry, I was so _relieved _because you were back and you were safe and I didn't have to worry about you getting hurt or me never getting to tell you how I feel or how much I loved you."

I felt his weight behind me on his bed and I kept my eyes closed as he leaned back and pulled me down onto his chest, burying my face in his neck and wrapping his arms around me. My arms were stuck in between our bodies as he rolled us on our sides, pulling me even closer into him.

His breaths were synchronized perfectly with mine, the spell of him was filling me up and the warmth of his body against mine was calming me to the point of relaxation I hadn't felt in what felt like years. I curled into him even further and forced myself to wait until he talked.

When he didn't talk for a few moments, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was staring at me, biting his lip. When we made eye contact, he smiled.

"You do realize…" his smile grew, "that you just told me you loved me three times in one breath."

I was laughing and I wasn't sure why, because it was so like us, the whole situation. I admit my undying love for him and he responds with a joke. He was chuckling too, though I thought it to be more at me than at him comment.

"I love you too," he whispered, leaning his face closer to mine and still smiling. He looked down at me tenderly and wiped what I soon realized to be tears off of my face. "I really, really love you."

At that moment, I didn't think I would ever tire of hearing those words. I knew that whenever he said them, they would always send shivers down my spine, my heart wouldn't always beat a million times faster, and my heart would always feel like it was going to explode.

Because this wasn't just anyone telling me that they loved me. This was Ron. Ronald Billius Weasley. Every strand of red hair, every freckle, every inch of his body, that was telling me. We were sitting in his bed and his arms were around me and he was _telling me that he loved me_ and all I wanted was his voice to go on forever and ever.

His hand was gently rubbing behind my ear now, in that place at the tippy-top of my jaw bone where all my tension seemed to ball up and reside. His hands were rough in a delicious way, from Quidditch and chores and everything else. All I could think about were his hands in other places, places much more intimate than my cheek.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered, still holding my face as he leaned into me. I could feel his breath against my lips. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

I never imagined that I would be the type of girl to swoon over kisses, but I was sure that if I had been standing, my knees would have gone weak. The way his lips moved against mine, the way that his arms pulled me closer, the way his hands splayed across my back, could be compared to no other feeling in the world.

My body was slowly filling with warmth. Kissing him was like a glass of butterbeer combined with that swoop in your stomach as you come down a really big drop and that feeling you get when you get out of bed and then come back and the blankets and quilts are still warm.

His lips moved against mine, sucking and pulling on my bottom lip, almost biting, but without teeth. It was a weird sensation, but a welcome one. But it wasn't weird that I was kissing him, like kissing Harry would be. It was weird because I was _kissing _him and he was kissing me back and we were both participating. There was a part of my head that couldn't believe that after all those years of crying and arguing and sending hints that he didn't pick up, this was actually happening.

His body was soft on the exterior. His skin was soft, while still being rough, and I couldn't figure out how it was possible. His touch was soft, his eyes soft, his hair soft, his clothes soft. To the eyes, his whole being seemed soft.

But then you got to know him, you touched him like I was touching him, you realized how wonderfully strong he was. Underneath his warm, soft sweaters were strong arms, a solid stomach, and unyielding shoulders.

He wasn't just physically strong. Strong for being able to stay steadfast in his beliefs, to do what's right even when it feels wrong, for always being there for me when I needed it most and always coming back when I thought he was never going to.

He pulled away and I watched him as he kept his eyes closed. He looked so serene, completely relaxed. I couldn't see his eyes, but he had this relaxed smile on his face, his breaths were deep and even, almost like he was sleeping.

His eyes opened and once again I was shocked at how crystal clear they were.

"You make everything so much easier," he whispered, his voice raw. "I don't even have to pretend. I can just… be." I smiled.

We laid there for a while, talking about nothing. Our wants for the future, what chores needed to be done around the house, what we were craving for dinner, all the pointless things that we hadn't had the time to talk about it what felt like years.

I finally decided that it was time for me to retire to Ginny's room and get ready to go to bed. As much as I wanted to stay in Ron's arms forever, just feel him near me for as long as I could, I knew that his mum would come upstairs to look for him and it wouldn't help the situation at all if she found us in what could be taken as a compromising position.

He followed me down the stairs and walked me to Ginny's door, standing there awkwardly as we both wondered in our heads how we were going to say goodnight.

"Good night, Ron," I finally said softly, opening the door and sliding in, slowly closing it as I faced him. He reached out and took my face in his hands, kissing me softly before he whispered:

"Good night, Hermione Granger."

**A/N: Thank you a billion times over to the best beta in the world 3!**

SO. I have a question. How tall did all of you picture the characters? I always thought Ron would be 6'2 or 6'3, Harry 5'10, Ginny 5'7 or so, and Hermione around 5'5. But I'm not sure. The books always say Ginny is short, but I always imagined Ginny taller than Hermione! What did you guys think?

And let me just say… Deathly Hallows. Part One. Amazing. I only had one complaint, and that was that Ron's reaction to Hermione's torture wasn't nearly emotional enough. But Emma Watson's performance, her screams… There are no words. It makes me cry every single time I hear it. Just… so good.

Thank you so much for reading:)! Please review & tell me what I can improve on/what you'd like to see in the upcoming chapters!


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